Where To Start?
by Grace Savage
Summary: Quinn decides to start dancing again. She ends up at Rachel's studio, formerly Quinn's studio, and runs into Rachel.


**Summary**: Quinn decides to take start dancing again. She ends up at Rachel's studio, formerly Quinn's studio, and runs into Rachel.**  
><strong>**Spoilers**: Lucy, Beth, Shelby...everything. Let's be safe and say everything.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own the characters, just the story.

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It's something she hasn't thought about in months. Years, even. The hands of her conscious haven't touched the memories. Memories coated in neurological dust. That is, until Lauren had to shove Lucy right back into the forefront of her life and stir everything up, sending neurological dust bunnies hopping through her brain. And once the dust settled, (figuratively, in real life; literally, mentally, if that makes any sense at all) Quinn was left with a choice; shove Lucy back where HBIC, McKinley Cheerio, Quinn Fabray thinks she belongs, or be Lucy Quinn Fabray, lonely New Directions member. It took her a while, but she settled on the latter. It was the first week of summer and she thought trying out Version 3.0 of herself around her mother, Santana, and Brittany couldn't be too dangerous. She could always go back to v2.0 when school starts if it doesn't work out. The problem was, where to start? She asked her mom, who is a kind of "Judy 2.0" now that Quinn's dad is gone. Judy said Quinn already made the first step; "A haircut is the token choice when designing a new you." That pleased Quinn, but she was ready for something more. She'd basically already been v3.0, in the comfort of her home, for months now. When she consulted Santana, the girl said to start with something simple. Quinn's first thought was to change her name on Facebook from Quinn Fabray to Lucy Quinn Fabray. She'd still go by Quinn, but Lucy would become common knowledge, and it would show that Quinn is claiming her, and that Lucy isn't something anyone (JewFro) can attempt to torment her with. But Santana immediately shot her down, stating that, "A move like that is _huge, _Q. People are on Facebook _constantly _in the summer. It's not something they're likely to forget if you just want to be a bitch again when school starts." So Quinn was stumped. It was the next day and she and Brittany were sitting on the couch in Brittany's basement watching Saturday Morning Cartoons with Lord Tubbington, like they had since they met the first day of preschool. They had always been best friends, until Quinn's pregnancy, and since that day in the hotel room, they had gone back to their old ways, sometimes including Santana. The commercial break came on and Quinn realized Brittany was likely to have a bit of wisdom when it came to simplicity, so she asked. Brittany thought for a moment which is as adorable as it sounds; brows furrowed, head cocked to the side, forefinger tapping her nose and through her panning, found gold. "I would say you could come to motocross with me, but I know Lucy hated that. What about my dance class? Lucy's who took me there for my first time, so it would be that one thing, right? A cemetery?"

"Symmetry, Britt. And yes! You're a genius, B. But I don't think I can go with you anymore. You're in pretty advanced classes now and I haven't gone in years. Maybe after I've practiced a bit?"

And that brings us back to where we started, two days later. Quinn's dusty memories of dance, once again touched by her conscious for the first time since high school started. Quinn looks up at the lighted sign of her old studio, the only studio in Lima. It's simple. All it says is "Dance!" in faded black letter's on an aged white background. The sign is definitely in contrast with the aged red brick façade, but somehow it works. It's 7:00pm. Quinn called yesterday to book the back room for a two-hour slot, at an $8.50 per hour rate. She walks into the lobby and greets the receptionist, who happens to be the owner, with a smile. She doesn't think the boisterous old woman will know who she is, but underestimating your elders is always foolish.

"Lucy Fabray! You look absolutely beautiful. I always hoped I'd see you back here one day, pretty girl. Let me guess, you're the 7 o'clock?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, Lucy, we double-booked you because one of our regulars had to switch days. She got the lead in the Lima Community Theater's Annual Summer Show and her old schedule just wouldn't mesh with their rehearsal times. Luckily, the theater's always dark on Mondays. She's already in the back. Early, as usual. It'll just be the two of you. Is that okay? You only have to pay half the fee."

"Ah, an offer I can't refuse! I see how you work." Quinn says, smiling. She excavates her wallet from her duffel, and hands over the money.

"Thank you, dear. The girl's a sweetheart, but if you want to come again next week and work alone, just call me tomorrow morning and I'll try to find another slot for you. I'll be on my way in a second, but she has a key to lock up with, since she's here almost as much as I am."

"Well, thanks, Miss Janice. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Lucy dear!"

Quinn waves as she heads through the door into the main room. _I could practice in here if I wait until Miss Janice is gone, but I'm pretty curious to see who this girl is, and I shouldn't break the rules my first time back._ She makes her way into the locker room, which connects the two rooms. After she pulls what all hair she can back into a short little ponytail, pinning back the rest, she changes into a light pink tank top, purple spandex, tights, and some new Bloch slip-on jazz shoes. Her old shoes are too big, even with her feet bigger since the pregnancy. She figured jazz shoes would be the best choice as a replacement since she's planning on dancing with Brittany's class at some point, in which they practice a variety of styles. Quinn is most excited for contemporary. From what Brittany showed her on Saturday, she thinks it's beautiful.

Quinn grabs her water bottle and iPod, and takes a deep breath as she heads toward the door opposite the one she came in from. As she gets close, she can hear the echo of Bonnie Tyler's voice, along with a more familiar, stronger one that she can't quite place. Slowly, she pries the heavy old door open an inch and peaks through the crack. To her surprise, the girl in view is none other than Rachel Barbra Berry*. Quinn chastises herself for not realizing the moment Miss Janice mentioned the Summer Show. Rachel's on point, wearing a leotard and tights, with a sheer skirt tied around her waist, her hair in a low bun with her bangs brushing her brow. She's doing fouettés, split-rolls, and more, all while belting out the song, full power, sounding as great as if she was planted stock still in the center of the choir room. _I wonder if it's choreographed._ Every move is flawless. Every turn is perfectly executed. She has perfect form and yet you can see passion in every step. Quinn sees that her eyes are closed. Miss Janice must have been telling the truth when she said Rachel was here as much as she, because the girl has to know the layout of this room like the back of her hand, otherwise, she'd have crashed into the mirrors a dozen times. Rachel looks completely lost in the music. No, she looks like the music is lost in her, flowing through her and from her fingertips. Quinn knows the instrumental is coming up, and finds herself excited to see what Rachel can do when not sparing energy to sing. Quinn is in awe. At each weird whooshing explosion sound Rachel is doing russians, at least four feet off the ground that look better that any Cheerio's toe-touch. _I wonder if I could have been this good, if I had stuck with it instead of dropping it for gymnastics. I know I was the best in my class other than Brittany before I left. I wonder if Rachel was in it. I can't even remember. I think I would have noticed someone this amazing, but maybe Rachel didn't flourish until she had the chance to be in the spotlight. It was a few years ago._ She hears the last "Turn around" and sees that Rachel is on the floor in an ending pose and quickly shuts the door. She counts to ten, and walks in, swinging the door open all the way, so it creaks, alerting Rachel of her presence. Rachel is on the floor still, but now she's lying spread eagle, chest heaving. She sits up abruptly at the sound of the door and turns.

"Quinn! You're the other seven o'clock? I didn't know you dance!"

"I didn't know you did either. How long are you staying?"

"Oh, um… 'til nine, but I suppose I could leave if you'd like."

"What? Rachel, I'm not kicking you out, I was just wondering since I'd need your key if I was staying later than you."

"Oh. How'd you know I have a key?"

"Miss Janice."

"Oh." Rachel walks over to where her iPod is connected to the sound system. "What music do you like to dance to? Do you want to plug in your iPod? Or would you rather we just listen to our own music, separately?" She began digging around in a messenger bag on the floor. "Hmm, it seems I've forgotten my headphones."

"Whatever you'd like is fine Rachel."

"Are you sure? My usual playlist has some show tunes in it," Rachel says, with an apologetic smile and a self-deprecating shrug.

"I'm sure, Rachel. There's nothing wrong with show tunes. I've always kind of liked your taste in music."

Rachel's smile turns bright, and she begins browsing for a song. Quinn is stuck wondering how every time she and Rachel end up in what should be an awkward situation, everything flows naturally, without tension. _Just a few weeks ago, I slapped the tiny girl! Sure, I regretted it immediately, and apologized, but Rachel took it far better than anyone else would have, and was wiping my tears moments later. Sophomore year, Rachel told the truth about Puck being the father__. Moments after that, she came to apologize and I wasn't even mad. Both of those times I told her things I hadn't told a soul._ Just as Quinn is wondering why Rachel had come after her, and not gone after Finn, Rachel chooses a song to start them out. Quinn doesn't recognize it, but it sounds like another eighties hit.

"What were you up to before I came in? It looked like you had already worked up a sweat."

"Oh, just a warm-up. After I stretch, I always pick a random song to dance to before I work on my usual routines and exercises."

_So it wasn't choreographed._

"Lately I've been thinking I should bring a video camera. Some of my warm-ups turn out really well, but I can't ever seem to remember them. I guess I just get too lost in the moment."

"I know the feeling. I have to admit, I watched it. So, at least you got to share it with someone. It was amazing, Rachel." _Why the hell am I telling her this?_

"Wait, you saw? Why'd you act like you didn't?" Rachel cocked her head to the side, brows furrowed, a great impression of Brittany's thinking face, and equally adorable.

"Well, I didn't want to interrupt and then… well… I don't really know…."

Rachel's brows furrowed deeper, and her head cocked farther. "Oh. Well, I guess we may as well get started. Do you want to just split the room in half?"

"Sure. Um, what do you usually do? I haven't danced in years. I mean, I was pretty good then, but I really don't know where to start. What do you suggest?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember when you stopped coming. I keep forgetting to connect you with Lucy."

_So she was in the class._

"You were more than 'pretty good,' Quinn. Funny how I was jealous of you even when you hated yourself. Well, I guess we don't have to split up the room. You can just follow the exercises I do, doing what you can, and then do your own thing while I practice my routines. Sound good?"

"Sure, Rach…el… Rach-EL. Rachel. Um…sure."

"You can call me Rach if you want," Rachel laughs, "Or Rach-EL, I guess."

Quinn blushes, "Oh, hush! I just I just didn't know where it came from… I guess it's cause I just always feel so comfortable around you." She blushes again, and mumbles, "And there I go again…." _Why can't I stop telling her things she doesn't need to know?_

"You feel comfortable around me? And 'there you go again ' what?"

Quinn sighs. "Yes, I've always felt really comfortable around you. Apparently comfortable enough to tell you things that I'd never usually say, which is the 'there I go again' thing. I mean, haven't you noticed that every time we're in what should be a completely awkward situation, we both seem to be fine? Like, right now? And last summer, at the gym?" Quinn and Rachel had found themselves in a situation quite like this one, working out in the perpetually empty Ladies-Only Room at the Lima Bodyworks. They had had the same work-out schedule and ended up talking and becoming sort of acquaintances. That is, until school started again. "I never would have talked to you about the pregnancy without this weird openness I feel every time I'm around you."

"Quinn, I told you then, you need to stop referring to it as 'The Pregnancy.' Beth is real; she is a part of you."

Quinn's breath hitches at the mention of _her_ name. "And I told you I can't do that if I want to _not_ be begging you for your mom's phone number every day."

Now Rachel's breath falters. "And _I _told _you_ to call her Shelby if you don't want me crying on your shoulder every time we see one another."

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, then, "Well," Quinn says, and huffs out a laugh, "At least we're right back to where we were at the end of last summer. And here I was worried we'd have to go through some long awkward reconnecting period."

Rachel smiles, "Well, like you said, we've never been awkward before. I have to admit, I've always felt a connection to you as well. I've never really thought about it 'til now, but I do."

"Really?"

"Yes, really, Quinn. And before you ask, yes, really, really."

Quinn blushes, _again_, "Psh, I wasn't going to say that… but I think that's good. Maybe this summer we can really become friends?" She smiles, "Quinn 3.0 would love to make new friends." _**OhmyGod**__, did I just say that? Way to keep v3.0 under wraps and __**not**__ sound like a total loser._

"Um, 'Quinn 3.0?'"

_There she goes with the adorable cocked-head thing again. She and Brittany are going to kill me. _"Yeah, Lucy Quinn Fabray, also known as Quinn 3.0 or Version 3.0, at your service. I've decided to reinvent myself, again, since Version 2.0 was kind of a bitch."

Rachel grins, "Hmm, I thought you seemed less 'Head Cheerio' today. I like it."

"I'm glad you do. You've always made me want to be a better person." Quinn's hand shot up to her mouth, "Wow. I'm really going to have to get used to that with us being friends and all."

"Wow. Yeah, I'll need to get used to that, too. You know what? I'm getting the feeling we won't be doing much dancing at this rate. How about we lock up and go do something else? Coffee, perhaps?"

"I think you're right. Coffee sounds good."

"Great! Just let me grab my stuff and shut everything down."

"Sure, I have to go get my stuff, too. Do you have a change of clothes?"

"Um, no." _Again with the adorable head-cock._

"Then I won't change either. Don't want you looking weird in public all by yourself, friend," Quinn offers, with a shy smile.

"That's very sweet of you, Quinn 3.0," Rachel says with a mocking grin.

Quinn blushes, yet again, and says, "Well I guess I'll meet you out front then…," and walks to the door.

"Wait, Quinn, can I call you Q3P0?" Rachel asks, giggling.

Quinn replies over her shoulder, laughing a little, "No, Rach-EL, I'd rather you not."

"You do realize that 'Rach-EL' makes fun of you, and not me?"

"Ugh! I _will_ get you somehow, Rach."

"And my little dog, too?"

With that, Quinn is through the door.


End file.
